A Call from the Dark Side
by Sam C
Summary: A tale of mystery, intrigue and downright horror. Not for the faint-hearted! Contains a relationship between two women. Don't read if this is not your thing. 5th in series but can be read as a standalone. Reviews and comments are always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

A Call from the Dark Side

This is the fifth story in the series after 'Distress Call', 'House Call', 'Call to Arms' and 'Call me Kathryn'. All stories in the series feature a relationship between two women with some sexual scenes. If you don't like that, don't read this.

In addition, this story is rated 'M' for good reason. Do not read this if you are of a sensitive nature or are easily spooked – you have been warned!

Chapter 1

**Part 1**

The hour was late and Engineering was deserted, with just a few members of the night shift carrying out routine maintenance and keeping things ticking over. As was usual the lights were dimmed, the blue light from the warp reactor casting long shadows across the floor. A couple of crewmen shared a joke, but their low voices were drowned by the constant hum of the engines. On the second level, a sleepy security officer continued her patrol, neither expecting nor anticipating anything out of the ordinary. The scene was completely normal, a routine night shift, and what happened next would have shocked even the most experienced officer to the core.

**Part 2**

"Look, I'm just saying that if I had been playing, B'Elanna and I would have won for sure," Tom Paris was saying, three disbelieving expressions disagreeing unanimously with his confident statement.

Torres, Paris's long-term girlfriend and Voyager's Chief Engineer (in Tom's mind that was the correct order of priorities) snorted into her brandy. "No offence, Tom, but Harry and I played just fine. We were beaten by better opponents, that's all."

"Harry plays too cautiously," Paris declared, waving his own glass in the air. It was a good job it was mostly empty, a fact noticed by Captain Janeway, the host for the evening. "Now with me, we'd win because we're, y'know, on the same wavelength, we can anticipate each other's moves-"

"Oh, you're absolutely right," grinned B'Elanna, "I would definitely anticipate you barging in front of me then putting the ball into the net. Or falling over. Or – what was it last week? Accidentally letting go of your racket and dropping it onto the other side?"

The young helmsman's face was sheepish, his manly pride most definitely wounded. "Still would've won, though," he muttered, albeit with a smile.

From across the table, Seven-of-Nine and Janeway exchanged knowing glances. The Captain rolled her eyes, not for the first time that night, as her partner began to speak. Her tone was careful, measured, but carrying a note of amusement which all four people recognised, for they had spent a great deal of time together over the past days and weeks. "You are mistaken, Tom. Statistically, taking into account previous tennis matches, you and Lieutenant Torres would have had an eighty percent chance of losing the match."

"A one-in-five chance of winning? No way, Seven, come on! Have you seen my backhand recently?"

The light banter continued as Janeway rose from her chair and crossed the room, making for the small kitchen area. Already Seven was talking about improving the 'cooking facilities', even though the two women had been partners for less than two months and were a long way from sharing quarters. Yet Janeway, somehow, didn't disagree. On average, the young ex-Borg spent over half of their off-duty hours (for the Captain had ensured that they worked the same shifts) in Janeway's quarters, and this was increasing each week. They talked (though not yet about everything), played, laughed, made love, debated, cuddled and slept together, and as far as Janeway was concerned, it was good.

The conversation had shifted when Janeway returned to the table with a bottle of brandy in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other, and she set them down with care as she listened to her partner speak. Settling down in her favourite chair, she almost unconsciously reached out a hand for the younger woman, finding comfort in the touch when her hand was gently grasped.

"There is no such thing as ghosts, Tom," Seven was saying, this time with a serious expression that reflected the altered mood. Janeway grasped her partner's hand tighter. "These stories are merely fictional tales, designed to provoke a reaction of fear."

"But what if they are real – nobody's disproved it-"

"One cannot disprove the existence of something," Seven interjected coolly. "However, given that there is no evidence for such a phenomenon, it has to be assumed that what you call 'ghosts' and 'spirits' are not real." Seven stood, walking towards the bedroom area where the spacious bathroom was located.

Torres smiled and held up a glass, her eyes meeting Janeway's. "There are some spirits I do believe in! If I may, Captain?" The engineer reached questioningly for the brandy, and Janeway laughed.

"Of course, B'Elanna. And, as I've told both you and Tom, call me Kathryn when we're off duty and seeing each other socially. I have enough problems with Seven in that department!"

The Borg inclined her head graciously in recognition as she entered the bedroom. It didn't feel right to her, calling the Captain 'Kathryn', even when they were in bed together, but she was trying.

Around the table, the officers continued to chat, Janeway more reflective, Paris somewhat argumentative and Torres happy to play Devil's Advocate. It had been a pleasant, relaxed evening, with good food, drink and discussion.

When all four comm badges beeped simultaneously, the mood turned on a sixpence.

**Part 3**

In Engineering, at 00:05, the lights went out. Power to every system cut out simultaneously, and darkness descended like a blanket, even the warp core ceasing to emit its characteristic glow. Faced with this unusual yet not particularly worrying situation, the young security officer peered uncertainly into the gloom, and was about to call out to the engineers working on the floor below when she felt a band of constriction tighten around her neck, her shout strangled.

**Part 4**

"Janeway to Tuvok, report."

"Captain, this is Tuvok. There has been an incident in Engineering. Lieutenant Torres should also attend. I have secured the area and I await your arrival."

For the Chief of Security to have been called out at such an hour, the incident must have been serious, Janeway knew, and without hesitation she stood. Torres was at her side instantly, having heard the message relayed over the Captain's comm badge. Together they left Deck Two and entered the turbolift, both women with their own imagined scenarios playing through their minds, neither of their visions even approaching the horror that awaited.

**Part 5**

The body lay upon the cold deck, touched by no-one, for upon the arrival of the Doctor it was clear that she was dead. Ensign Harper, a young, bright woman who never had a bad word to say about anyone, was no longer alive. Around her neck was a thin, red mark that appeared to have been caused by a cord drawn so tight that it had broken the skin, a tiny trickle of blood staining the neck where it had oozed from the cut. Engineering crew, security personnel and others stood quietly as the Captain entered.

One look was all she needed. "Clear the area," Janeway said, her tone soft yet commanding, and she was obeyed instantly. Torres remained by her side, along with the Doctor, Voyager's holographic Chief Medical Officer, who bore a sombre expression.

"A few minutes, Captain, that's all," he stated, answering Janeway's unspoken question. "I'll collect whatever evidence I can. I'd like some help, if that's possible." It wasn't a request.

"I'll send Tom Paris down," answered Janeway, her voice low and calm. "Keep me informed."

The Captain's words lingered in the air as the Doctor began his work.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

"I'll carry out a post-mortem examination overnight," said the Doctor, his tone sombre as he regarded the nude form stretched out on the table before him. Only ten minutes previously, the body had been a living, breathing human being, a loyal officer who had served with Voyager since her launch. Now, it was a corpse, cooling rapidly, skin turning the grey of the dead, marks from the ligature around her neck that killed her standing out purple against the flesh.

Captain Janeway, whose mood had changed from one extreme to the other on hearing the news and seeing the victim for herself, stood a few feet away, unable to bring herself to look upon the body of one of her crew. Being killed in the line of duty was one thing – upsetting, but everyone who joined Starfleet knew the risks, and Janeway could deal with that. But this was a different situation, and the Captain wasn't at all sure she could handle it at this time, after her own recent struggles. Deal with it she would, though, for she was the Captain of a Starship and the responsibility rested on her.

"Can you give me any thoughts at the moment, Doctor?" Janeway asked softly, her eyes on her Chief Medical Officer, who tipped his head to one side then the other.

"Ensign Harper appears to have been asphyxiated by means of a ligature pulled tightly around her neck, as evidenced by the obvious bruising. However, I will need to perform further examinations in order to confirm this."

"She was seen alive just before the lights went out," noted Janeway. "It must have been quick. Preliminary sensor readings show that the power outage lasted only a matter of minutes."

"Unfortunately, that's all it would take."

"What about trace evidence, DNA?" Janeway knew she was grasping at straws, but when all you had was straw there wasn't much else one could do. "Did you pick up anything useful?"

The Doctor shook his head slowly, moving closer to the Captain and drawing her away from the biobed with its occupant. "Captain, Engineering is a high-traffic area. There is DNA all over the place, including that from all the engineering crew, security, B'Elanna Torres, Harry Kim, Tom Paris, Seven, Chakotay, Tuvok and yourself. We don't have the cord used to test and it seems that it didn't shed any fibres. I think that this will be solved by more technological means – sensor readings, transporter logs et cetera, which aren't exactly my forte. Please, Captain, go and get some rest. I will have completed the examination by the morning."

Janeway allowed herself to be escorted to the sick bay doors, and without a backward glance exited into the corridor. The medical hologram watched her go, worried about the horrific attack and the fact that a murderer was on board Voyager, but also worried for Janeway. She had been through a great deal in the recent past, and privately the Doctor wondered if the courageous woman would be able to cope.

**Part 2**

Her quarters were in darkness when Janeway returned, having detoured to the mess hall after leaving sick bay. Despite Neelix's protestations she had ordered coffee, black and strong, and sipped it as though it were going out of fashion. Sleep be damned, she needed the buzz of caffeine in her system, and as she padded across her living room she felt wide awake. When the lights suddenly brightened, the calm veneer evaporated, and Janeway yelped involuntarily before her reflexes caused her to grab an ornamental dagger from one of her shelves and duck down behind her desk, thinking that if she survived whatever was coming, she would position phasers at strategic points around her quarters first thing in the morning.

"Who's there?" demanded Janeway, her voice steady and strong, and more menacing than she had intended. Peering around the desk, her relief was palpable, and she felt rather foolish as Seven-of-Nine strode across the room to where she was slowly pushing herself to her feet. The tall ex-Borg didn't reach down to help, but regarded her partner with an amused grin. Janeway was anything but amused.

"What the hell are you doing, skulking round in the dark?" Janeway's voice was loud, but shook now, betraying her outer calm. "You know what's happened, I assume?"

Seven, recognising fear in her friend's tone, stepped forward and embraced the older woman, wrapping her arms around Janeway and kissing the thick, auburn hair. "I apologise. I was about to return to Cargo Bay Two, when I felt the need to visit the bathroom. You walked in, I switched the lights on. Are you alright...Kathryn?"

Janeway breathed out into Seven's shoulder, feeling warmth through the fabric of Seven's green and black, Starfleet-style uniform. "Yes, Seven, I am now. I just – I didn't think you would still be here."

"I could leave if you prefer?"

Janeway leaned heavily on Seven, her arms tight around the younger woman, their bodies touching from head to toe. "No, I wouldn't prefer that. Stay. Please."

"As you wish. Would you like me to draw a bath for you?" Of all the things she could have offered, this was the most thoughtful, and Janeway's eyes had tears in them as the Captain let go of her lover and smiled.

"That would be lovely, Seven," whispered Janeway softly. She stopped, catching the Borg's hand. "Only if you join me, though."

"Of course."

**Part 3**

Tom Paris would never have thought of himself as squeamish, however when he saw the Doctor coolly slice through skin and muscle with a laser scalpel, he decided that being macho wasn't worth the effort. "Ah, Doc, I'm gonna run the blood tests, okay?"

Voyager's medical hologram sniffed, looking up from his gruesome task. "What's the matter, Mr. Paris? Afraid of a little _real_ medical work?"

"Doc, I never wanted any medical work of any kind, remember? I'll run these tests; you do the PM, right?"

"Fine."

**Part 4**

Janeway lay on her bed, the duvet resting on her but not tucked in, the space next to her wide and cold. Shivering despite the normal, environmentally-controlled temperatures, she called out. "Seven? Are you coming?"

"One minute, Captain." The reply was reassuring, and the older woman rolled over in her bed, anticipating the arrival of her lover. They had bathed together, Seven washing Janeway's hair, loving hands stroking and caressing through the soapy water. But they hadn't made love, and that was what Janeway wanted, to make her feel human, alive.

The younger woman slid under the covers beside her Captain, reaching out and enfolding Janeway's sturdy form in those long arms. For several minutes they remained still, enjoying the closeness and sharing their warmth. The ex-Borg wore a simple T-shirt, and Janeway wriggled to free her hands, pushing up the material so that their skin was touching. She wanted to feel the young woman's breasts pressing against her own, to regain some of the intimacy they had lost. Her actions were rewarded as Seven's wandering hands moved down Janeway's body, skimming gently over the firm breasts and curved stomach before stroking lovingly up the inside of Janeway's thigh.

Janeway reacted to the touch, pushing towards the questing hand as she urgently sought her lover's caress. Neither of the women were the type to tease a lover, preferring to give exactly what was desired, and Seven immediately found the Captain's most sensitive place. With the rhythmic, circular strokes Janeway could feel the pressure building, delicious wisps of pleasure connecting her body to her brain, and she let out an involuntary whimper. Seven's motion did not change, continuing with the same speed and a light touch, as she knew that would bring the Captain to her peak quickly.

With her other hand, Seven caressed the soft skin of Janeway's stomach and thighs, feeling the many scars that criss-crossed her partner's flesh, constant reminders to both women of the brutality Janeway had suffered at the hands of Cardassian soldiers. The young Borg was careful to keep away from Janeway's most personal area, for still the older woman would not allow herself to be touched inside. Seven didn't understand, for she knew now how pleasurable it could be, how good it felt when Janeway's slender fingers slipped inside her and found that sensitive spot. But she respected her lover's wishes, and was content to use her hands in the way she was doing, concentrating on the area that would satisfy her lover the most.

The small bump had enlarged, a tight bundle of nerves that could give both pleasure and pain depending upon the attention it received. Janeway's limbs twitched now, another murmur escaping her lips, and Seven knew that she was close to orgasm. Keeping up her rhythm, she kissed Janeway's proud nipples one at a time, nipping gently with her teeth. This pushed the older woman over the edge and she climaxed violently, bucking and writhing against her lover who managed to maintain contact despite the older woman's movements. Hot and sweating, Janeway opened her eyes, kissing Seven passionately on the lips, trying to convey her gratitude as the feelings inside her continued.

"Thank you," whispered Janeway, tears in her eyes.

"You are welcome," Seven replied formally, drawing the Captain's warm body closer. They stayed that way for a long time, even after both women fell asleep, Janeway's slumber restless and disturbed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Part 1**

"Doctor to Captain Janeway."

The call woke the Captain from her dreams, which had been graphic and disturbing as they so often were. She reached out to pick up her comm badge from the small set of drawers next to the large bed, trying not to disturb her sleeping partner. Seven lay on her side, a peaceful expression on her features that made her appear innocent and child-like, much younger than her twenty-six years. As she watched, it was difficult to believe that this beautiful woman, with her fine features and shining blonde hair, was once a Borg drone who had assimilated and killed thousands.

"Doctor to the Captain, are you there?" The Chief Medical Officer would normally have sounded annoyance at being kept waiting, but all Janeway could detect was worry. Presumably the Doctor was imagining that some ill had befallen Janeway, and she responded quickly.

"Sorry, Doctor. Do you have anything more to report?" Janeway set her badge down again and carefully extricated herself from the covers, glancing down at her partner once again as she stretched out her limbs one by one.

"I'm afraid not, Captain. The ligature used was approximately four millimetres in diameter and quite hard, perhaps something like a wire or a piece of flexible plastic, rather than softer material. I found no fibres or hairs except those you would expect to find in engineering, and as I said before the DNA evidence is useless."

"I've got B'Elanna and a team working with the sensors, but that's not given us any useful information so far. I'll get Seven working on the transporter logs, and Harry will investigate the power cut." Janeway glanced at a small clock on her table, and was surprised by the late hour, as it was almost 09:00. "Thank you, Doctor. I will be addressing the crew shortly; I don't want people guessing and starting rumours about this. Janeway out."

Stretching her sturdy body again, the Captain then sat on the bed and leaned over to kiss Seven-of-Nine lightly on the cheek, intending to wake her. The Borg did not stir, and Janeway resorted to the less pleasant method of shaking the young woman by the shoulder. That worked, Seven waking with a jolt but then smiling as she met Janeway's eyes. Gracefully Seven sat up and the women hugged.

"I'm about to address the crew," Janeway said, pulling away a little and looking into her friend's eyes. "You should hear this. Right, here goes." Under normal circumstances the Captain would never issue a shipwide address from her quarters, but it was 09:00 hours now and the crew would be expecting it. Janeway's legs dangled over the side of her bed as she picked up her comm badge again, and she felt the reassuring touch of Seven's arms around her waist.

"All hands, this is the Captain. What I am about to say will be upsetting, and I want you to remember that myself and the other officers are doing all we can. Last night, in Engineering, Ensign Joanna Harper was murdered, by a person or persons as yet unknown. It is possible that an intruder is responsible; however there is no evidence to suggest that there is an intruder aboard. It is my belief that the perpetrator is a member of the crew. I urge all of you to stay alert, be vigilant, and report anything you feel might be useful directly to myself or Lieutenant Tuvok. Thank you."

Janeway sat in silence, considering her words and wondering who could possibly have carried out such an evil act. She could not imagine any of her crew, Voyager's family, committing murder of this kind, and the idea gnawed away inside her. Bowing her head as tears began to trickle down her cheeks, she felt movement behind her, and was pulled down into a tight embrace.

**Part 2**

"Have you found anything out from the sensors yet?" Janeway asked of her Chief Engineer, who shook her head in response.

"The computer shows that the only comm badge present was Ensign Harper's, which isn't much of a surprise since anyone out with the intention of strangling someone isn't likely to wear their badge as they do it. Internal sensors aren't configured to read biosignatures, though if you like I could make the necessary alterations."

That would go against several regulations, and both women knew it. Whilst Torres thought that breaking a few rules was perfectly acceptable when the end would justify the means, Janeway knew that in times such as these it was even more important to uphold the values of Starfleet and the Federation, for once a foot is placed upon that slippery slope there would be no going back. "No, B'Elanna," Janeway replied softly, resting a hand on the half-Klingon's shoulder and squeezing gently, emphasising her words.

"Alright. Now, the doors to Engineering weren't opened around the time of the murder, but someone could have entered through the Jefferies tubes – there aren't any records kept of hatchways being opened. Or, and personally I think this is more likely, someone used the transporter to beam in, maybe modifying the beam so that it is less noticeable, or erecting an opaque force field first."

"Or beaming into one of the Jefferies tubes," suggested Janeway. "Seven's looking at the transporters now; I'll make sure you're kept informed. I've increased security around the ship-"

"I know," interrupted Torres, jerking her head towards a pair of security officers by the doors, who carried phaser rifles and wore no-nonsense expressions. "These goons keep interrupting me whilst I'm working. One of them had the gall to ask where the replicator was, said he wanted coffee!"

The Captain sighed, beckoning to the taller of the two men, who strode over smartly and looked like he desperately wanted to salute. "Jenkins, please tell your men not to disturb Lieutenant Torres or any of the engineering crew whilst they are working. And make sure they wait for authorised breaks if they want a drink – if our murderer turns up whilst they're sipping coffee, those rifles won't be a lot of use one-handed."

The young officer stood up straighter, if that were possible. "Yes, Sir!"

Janeway suppressed a grin, fixing her scowl in place. "Dismissed, Ensign."

"Aye, Sir!"

"I thought you didn't like being addressed as 'Sir'," remarked B'Elanna, watching as the security officer passed on the Captain's orders.

"I don't, B'Elanna, but if I'd told him off for that his ego would have been in pieces. With everything that's happened, I'm not going to get uptight about what the crew call me, so long as it's not inappropriate."

"Aye, Sir," replied the Engineer with a grin, and both women laughed.

**Part 3**

At the top of the ship, the former observation lounge had been altered by the First Officer little by little until it was almost unrecognisable. The panoramic windows were still the room's main feature, affording breathtaking views, but gone were the hard chairs and Starfleet-issue tables, the plain floors and walls. Along one side ran a bar, manned most often by Neelix and a few volunteers, which served hot and cold drinks, both with synthetic alcohol and without. Light snacks were available, cooked to order in the galley then transported up, and Chakotay had insisted that the bar was open at all hours so that every member of the crew could use the facility, whatever shift they worked.

The floor was real wood, which Chakotay had personally chopped down during a visit to an uninhabited planet. Several rugs were placed around the room, all the same tasteful dark blue. The walls were white, and what little wall space existed was covered in pictures, all with dark blue frames. The pictures were of places in the Alpha Quadrant, a large view of Earth taking pride of place in the middle. All the crew's birthplaces were represented, from the largest planets; Vulcan, Bajor, Qo'noS, Betazed and others, to the smallest colonies. Captain Janeway, who had not initially approved of the alterations, changed her mind, touched when she noticed a small picture of the Tendara colony, birthplace of Annika Hansen, the girl who would become Seven-of-Nine.

The only thing missing was a name, neither the Captain nor the First Officer coming up with a suitable choice that both agreed on. It was still being referred to as the observation lounge, and this annoyed Chakotay every time he heard it. As he entered and crossed to a table where Janeway was waiting, he glanced around. As it was the middle of the day shift, few people were there, but at times he knew that half the crew would be here.

"Sorry I'm late, Captain. I just wanted to check in with Harry and Seven first." Chakotay slid his large bulk into one of the comfortable chairs opposite Janeway. A pot of coffee was on the table along with two cups, and the First Officer helped himself.

Janeway watched, seeing the defeated expression in her friend's eyes and knowing before she asked that nothing had been found that would help in identifying the criminal.

"Whoever it was, they certainly know their way around Voyager's systems. They had set up a new identity and used it to program the transporters and a force field. That way, he or she didn't even have to bother erasing their handiwork. They beamed directly into engineering, the top level, after cutting power to that section by overloading two key relays. They materialised behind an opaque force field so that the light from the transporter beam couldn't be seen. After they had killed Ensign Harper, they transported out again. The only piece of information that was erased were the locations our murderer beamed in from and out to, and it was wiped out so thoroughly that even Seven can't find it."

With a small sign, the Captain shook her head in resignation. "This is even more worrying, Chakotay. We're looking at the perpetrator being someone who knows this ship inside out. What if it's one of the officers, or a department chief?"

"Tuvok is questioning the officers now. He's the best person for the job."

"Unless he's the murderer," answered Janeway. "It could be you, for all I know. It could be anyone – I'm betting there are even people who suspect me. I was with Seven, Tom and B'Elanna. I know it's not one of them, but I can't trust anyone else. Where were you?"

The question wasn't asked in a serious manner, but Chakotay tensed visibly. This was what Janeway was most afraid of, people becoming so paranoid that they lost all trust in their friends and may not be able to repair the damage. She reached over and patted her First Officer's large hand. "I do trust you, Chakotay, and I know that you couldn't be responsible for something like this, but I have to ask. You know that, and if I hadn't offered my whereabouts you would have asked me, too."

"Yes, I would," Chakotay admitted. "I was asleep in my quarters, alone. You woke me up when you contacted me over the comm system."

Both officers were silent for a minute, each trying to think of things they hadn't thought of already, when Janeway's badge beeped.

"Wildman to the Captain, it's- it's happened again, she's dead, oh my God…" Samantha Wildman's voice dissolved into sobs, and Janeway was unable to obtain any more information. She tapped her badge again, hoping desperately that the 'she' was not Naomi Wildman, Ensign Wildman's young daughter.

"Computer, locate Ensign Wildman."

_Ensign Wildman is in Holodeck Two_

"Locate Naomi Wildman."

_Naomi Wildman is in the Mess Hall_

This was some small comfort, and her voice was more measured when she spoke again. "Janeway to Tuvok and the Doctor. There's been another incident, in Holodeck Two. Get a security team down there, and I want you there too, Doctor."

"On my way."

"Acknowledged."

The Captain met Chakotay's eyes, her expression unreadable, and the First Officer knew that she was close to breaking point. They were both standing now, and regardless of whoever else was in the room, the large man pulled Janeway into a brief, gentle hug. "We'll deal with this, Kathryn," he whispered, hoping desperately that this was true.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

The holodeck was offline, the walls a dark blue with lines of holo-emitters forming a grid pattern. To one side, lying on the deck next to an open console, maintenance tools scattered around, the small body appeared unharmed at first glance. Only when the Doctor gently rolled the head to one side did Janeway see the cause of the woman's death. Crewman Alice Pitt had been murdered by means of a savage blow to the head, a single strike that had penetrated deep, shattering the skull. There was very little blood, but flecks of grey matter had erupted from the wound, brute force causing it to scatter in a wide arc. Feeling bile welling up in her stomach, Janeway swallowed it down, refusing to show weakness in front of her crew but wishing that she could walk away, leave it to someone else.

Samantha Wildman stood off to one side, being comforted by Neelix who had hurried from the mess hall when he heard the news. The Ensign had mostly regained her composure now, though her cheeks were stained with tears. The Captain crossed to where the two of them stood, talking softly. As the Captain approached, she was joined by Tuvok.

"Samantha, how are you feeling?" asked Janeway in a gentle voice, signalling to the Vulcan that she wanted to take the lead.

"Okay, I guess. It was just such a shock, when I saw her there, I called you straight away."

Wildman's voice wavered as she spoke, and Janeway was a kind person, but she had to ask for the details. "Talk me through exactly what happened, Samantha, and take your time."

"Alice had been working on a malfunctioning emitter, and she contacted me last night to tell me it should be repaired this morning. I had a tennis match scheduled with Ensign Vorik for 14:00 hours. When I checked ten minutes ago, the holodeck was still offline, and I thought I'd come down to help, since I didn't want to lose my holodeck time. I – I saw her immediately, Captain, lying there…" Wildman's voice tailed off and she stared down at her feet, trying hard not to cry again.

"Did you speak to her this morning, tell her you were coming to help?" asked Janeway casually. Wildman shook her head.

"No, I just checked with the computer whether the holodeck was working again, and when I saw it wasn't I came here from my quarters. I finished my shift at 10:30."

"Thank you, Samantha. Take the rest of the day and night off, I'll arrange for someone to cover your shift. Is there someone who can stay with you and Naomi?"

"I'll take care of them, Captain," Neelix promised, a fatherly arm around the young Ensign's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you a nice, hot drink." They walked out of the holodeck, and Janeway turned her attention back to the body.

"Doctor, what are your initial findings?"

The hologram rose from where he was crouching next to Alice Pitt's corpse. "She was killed by a blow to the head with a blunt object. As before there is no trace evidence, and also no significant amounts of DNA except for Pitt's own. My initial estimate is that she was killed three to four hours ago, most likely between 08:00 and 09:00 hours."

"Get the body up to sick bay as soon as you've finished here, and get started on the post-mortem examination. Your program does include forensic pathology, I assume?" It was a question Janeway should have asked earlier, but the reply allayed her fears on that score.

"Forensic pathology, forensic anthropology, forensic dentistry, archaeology, toxicology-"

Janeway held up a hand, stopping the Doctor mid-flow. "I get the idea. Keep me informed. Tuvok, a word please?"

Drawing the Security Chief off to one side, Janeway spoke in a low tone. "What did you find out from questioning the officers and department chiefs?"

"Very little of use, Captain. Most were alone, either in their quarters or on duty, when the first attack occurred. Only yourself and your visitors have alibis and can be ruled out. I shall question everyone again regarding their whereabouts this morning when Crewman Pitt was murdered. If I may ask, Captain, where were you?"

Janeway stared into the Vulcan's brown eyes, sensing a change in mood as he switched to interrogation. It would be difficult to fool this clever, logical man, at least Janeway hoped so.

"I was in my quarters, asleep in my bed, with Seven-of-Nine. I was woken up when the Doctor contacted me at almost 09:00 hours, after which I addressed the crew."

"You addressed the crew from your quarters?" There was no accusation in Tuvok's voice, but Janeway felt uncomfortable. She knew that her actions had been unusual, and was worried that they could be interpreted in ways that were simply not true.

"I always send out shipwide messages at 09:00 hours," Janeway clarified. "I'd overslept, as had Seven, and there wasn't time for me to get to the bridge."

Tuvok's eyebrows rose a little more, and the Captain felt herself becoming angry. She swallowed, forcing herself to be calm. "I'm calling a briefing at 17:00 hours, which will give everyone time to work on the investigation. You have my permission to interview anyone you like, including myself and Chakotay."

"Understood."

The Captain left Holodeck One, where a pair of security officers was collecting the various tools and implements that surrounded the body, placing them in individual bags which were sealed at the scene. Not going anywhere in particular, she wandered through the corridors, ending up outside Astrometrics. Realising where she was, Janeway contemplated entering the department where her partner was currently working, but decided not to after a minute of debating with herself. It would be unprofessional to do what she wanted to do, and going inside for a simple chat was not an option. Turning on her heels, Janeway walked away.

**Part 2**

Tom Paris, B'Elanna Torres and Harry Kim were eating lunch in the Mess Hall, as they often did when they were working the same shift. Harry and Tom were talking nonstop, exchanging theories and ideas that were becoming more wild by the second.

"I bet it's Lessing, or Morrow. We should never have let the Equinox crew stay on board Voyager. They must have all been a bit crazy, doing what they did."

"Could be," replied Tom, drumming his fingers annoyingly on the table. "Then again, it could be anybody. It's got to be someone who knows what they're doing. Me, I wouldn't be surprised if it were Tuvok, or Chakotay-"

"It is not Chakotay!" snapped Torres, slamming her cutlery down with such force that several other diners turned to see what the noise was. "It's not Tuvok, either. You're picking them because you simply don't like them, Tom. If you can't say something sensible, don't talk at all."

Rebuked, Tom began picking at his food again, miffed that his partner had reprimanded him in front of his best friend and a dozen other crewmembers. Harry Kim shuffled in his chair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and not wanting to get in the way of a brewing lovers' spat. "I'm going back to work," he announced, rising from his chair. "The Captain's hoping to reconstruct a pattern from the transporter, though from what I've seen it's not going to be possible. Guess we've got to try, though."

The young officer strode away, leaving Paris and Torres alone. B'Elanna leaned forward, speaking in a quiet voice that she rarely used. "I'm sorry, Tom. I guess we're all a little jumpy. Good job we know we can trust each other."

Paris touched his partner's hand briefly, smiling. "Thank God we were in the Captain's quarters. I'd hate to have to suspect you, even though I know you'd never do such a thing as murder."

"Well," admitted Torres, "There have been occasions where I could have happily strangled certain people, but I'd do it right in the middle of engineering with twenty witnesses, and it'd be justified, too." She grinned, and Paris was cheered by the Klingon's lightening mood.

"Ah, come on – you and Seven are friends now," Paris reminded Torres. "No need to punch her lights out now. Come on, we'll be late."

**Part 3**

The briefing room was full, but there was an invisible yet clear line drawn across the middle. It had already started, the suspicion and the mistrust, evident in the seating arrangement of Voyager's officers. On one side were Janeway, Torres, Paris and Seven-of-Nine along with the Doctor, who had been confirmed beyond doubt to have been in Sick Bay when both murders occurred, and his program showed no signs of tampering. Across the table sat Neelix, Tuvok, Chakotay and Harry Kim, none of whom had airtight alibis for the times in question. As the Captain looked around at her senior staff, she noted that seven of the nine people present now wore phasers, the exceptions being the Doctor and Seven.

"Let's get started," announced Janeway, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "I want to be clear right away that I'm not accusing any of you, but it seems that the person responsible for these attacks has to be someone who has an excellent knowledge of Voyager's systems, and that includes all the senior officers plus department chiefs and several engineers and security personnel."

"Captain, may I just say that I for one can't believe that any of the people in this room could have done such awful things. I just can't." Neelix shuddered, glancing around the room, and Janeway felt sorry for the sensitive Talaxian.

"I know, Neelix, I know. I've decided to take control of the investigation myself, and form a task force consisting of B'Elanna, Tom, Seven and the Doctor, for obvious reasons. The rest of you are to carry out your normal duties. I want you to stay in pairs wherever possible, so that if another attack does occur you will be able to prove your whereabouts. Now, I asked you all to give some thought to steps we might take in order to prevent another attack from happening, or at least to help us identify the perpetrator if they strike again. Anyone?"

There was some shuffling around the table as nobody wanted to be the first to speak. Eventually, Torres spoke out, though she knew that Janeway would not have altered her decision since that morning. "We could reconfigure the sensors to read biosignatures," she began, ignoring frowns from Janeway and others. "It would take a lot of sensor capacity, and I'd have to divert some of the external sensors – Voyager wouldn't be able to fly at warp speed, it would be too dangerous. But we could track everyone on board."

"No," replied the Captain immediately. "It's against regulations, and I refuse to spy on innocent people. Anyway, we know the murderer is competent with Voyager's technology – they would find some way of circumventing the sensors. Any other ideas?"

"I would suggest an alert on the transporter, but that would be too easy to tamper with. What about putting the ship on Yellow Alert, confining non-essential crew to quarters?" Chakotay's suggestion was met with an array of nods, but the Captain didn't agree.

"No, absolutely not." Her tone was adamant and not to be argued with. "I will not keep innocent people prisoner – if we were to do that, the criminal would have won. We could advise the crew to pair up, but it's impossible to enforce."

Tuvok spoke up next, his low tone serious and demanding attention. "I could perform mind-melds with the senior staff, Captain. If any of them were responsible, I would find out."

"Hell, I'll go for that," said Chakotay, almost standing as though he were going to have it done right there and then. "I don't want to be a suspect."

"Me too," added Kim, and Janeway had to raise her voice to be heard.

"Gentlemen, please. That is something I might consider in the event that we actually have a suspect, but it's not appropriate at the moment. We've all done things we'd rather not share-" she glanced across at Seven-of-Nine at this point, "and I'm not going to have Tuvok meld with every member of the crew. Lots of people would want to refuse, but then they would immediately be under suspicion, and people would agree to it even though they didn't want to. No, again, I will not infringe upon the rights of the crew."

Janeway stood and walked slowly around the room, touching the shoulders of her friends and colleagues as she did so, lingering behind Seven-of-Nine as she formed her next words. "Tom and I will work together, to look at possible motives, any connections between the killings. Seven, B'Elanna, I want you to go over the transporter logs again, see if there is anything more that you can do. Doctor, would the attacker have blood or brain matter on them after Crewman Pitt was attacked?"

"It's possible," replied the hologram, "however the transporter could be programmed to filter out bodily fluids not belonging to the individual being transported, and a simple sonic shower would remove any blood or brain matter from clothing and skin."

Gripping her lover's shoulders, Janeway paused, considering the Doctor's words and realising that the investigation was going to be far more difficult than she had anticipated. "Thank you all for coming. Return to your duties, and I'll call another briefing in due course. Dismissed." The officers filed out save for the ex-Borg, who remained in her seat.

Janeway stood in front of the young woman, her arms around Seven's neck as they kissed gently on the lips. "Here," said Janeway, unfastening her phaser and handing it to her partner. "I want you to be armed. If anything happened to you, I don't know that I would cope."

"I do not wish to carry a weapon," Seven replied, eyeing the offending implement with distaste. "I am capable of defending myself, Captain."

Janeway's gaze was steely and held firm as she pressed the phaser into Seven's mesh-covered hand. "It's an order, Seven."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Part 1 **

Walking across her brightly-lit quarters, a tired Janeway flopped down into her favourite armchair, one leg draped over the side in an inelegant but comfortable position. The smell of spiced food wafted through the air, and the Captain almost groaned with delight at the thought of delicious, home-cooked food. Seven-of-Nine stood by the small gas cooker that she had installed, her long, blonde hair messy and her clothing splashed with various sauces, and Janeway was touched by how happy her lover appeared. Neither woman said anything, the ex-Borg consumed with her culinary creations and Janeway happy to watch. As she did so, observing the tall, lithe figure move gracefully around the kitchen area, the older woman felt stirrings inside her that she couldn't ignore.

Rising from her chair, no longer feeling so exhausted that she didn't want to move, Janeway covered the short distance quickly, stepping up behind Seven and snaking her arms around the slender form. The young woman protested briefly but quickly surrendered to the embrace, prudently switching off the gas rings before turning to face her partner. They kissed deeply, hungrily tasting each other, tongues probing as they moved together to the nearest surface, Janeway's jigsaw-strewn dining table. The Captain pushed her younger lover onto the table, pieces cascading to the floor as their lips met once more, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. Roughly, Janeway shoved up Seven's shirt, bending to take an erect nipple in her mouth and sucking hard, flicking the rounded nub with her tongue.

Moaning softly, the ex-Borg allowed the older woman to do as she pleased, surrendering to her Captain in a way that she never had before. After pulling off Seven's trousers and underwear, Janeway's mouth slid lower, her pointed tongue skimming down her lover's taut stomach to the folds between the young woman's legs. Forcefully, the Captain's fingers entered her lover, thrusting in and out as she found Seven's clitoris with her mouth, stroking the side of the hard bump with a hard touch that was new to both women. It was the first time she had tasted her lover, yet Janeway couldn't slow her pace. Curling her fingers upwards and continuing to push deeper inside the velvety passage, now slick with moisture, the Captain was close to losing control. Her tongue traced long, rough strokes over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and Seven started to shudder, held firm by the Captain's grasp.

Her orgasm was overpowering, causing her entire body to convulse, but Janeway didn't release her lover, nipping with her teeth and adding another finger inside Seven, forcing her into another powerful climax. Eventually, the Borg protested, taking hold of Janeway's hands and bringing them up to rest on her narrow shoulders as she panted, regaining her breath. The older woman was red, and tears were sliding down both cheeks as Seven forced Janeway to look at her. Sitting up, she pulled the Captain into her arms, a gentle touch that made Janeway's tears fall faster.

"Shhhh," whispered Seven into her lover's ear, not knowing why Janeway was crying but wanting desperately to help. "I'm here," she said softly, and she held the weeping woman for a long time.

**Part 2**

When Janeway emerged from her bedroom, the hour was late. Stumbling over to the replicator, she demanded coffee, her voice hoarse from crying. The pot materialised, and the Captain was about to pick it up when a noise from across the room made her jump.

"I did not mean to startle you," Seven said softly, rising from the chair she had occupied for the majority of the evening. The young woman moved over to Janeway and attempted to kiss her, but the Captain moved away. Confusion passed through the Borg's mind, yet she stood still, waiting for her partner to speak.

"It's alright. I didn't think you would still be here." Janeway's tone was neutral, her eyes avoiding Seven's as she carried the coffee to the table which was still covered in scattered jigsaw pieces.

"I would like to talk about what happened earlier," Seven stated, following Janeway and sitting opposite. "Why were you upset?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Seven." Janeway's voice was hard, but the younger woman was insistent and not to be deterred.

"Kathryn," she began, the use of Janeway's first name at last causing a flicker of attention in the Captain, "if we are to be lovers, to have a relationship, we must discuss our feelings. Please, tell me what concerned you."

Janeway felt her emotions rising again and bit her lip, forcing the tears back down. "I nearly hurt you," she whispered, the words barely audible. "I was out of control, and if you hadn't had the strength that you do…" She didn't finish the sentence, for now she was crying again. It seemed to be a daily occurrence in recent times.

Seven left her chair and approached uncertainly, remembering the rejection just a few minutes earlier, but Janeway reached out towards her partner, and Seven embraced the shaking Captain. "You did not hurt me," Seven stated, squeezing her lover's body tightly. "The experience was pleasurable."

Sobbing into her friend's shirt, it was a minute before the Captain could speak again. "I was close, Seven, close to losing it. I'm – I'm no better than those Cardassian bastards who raped me, that's pretty much what I did to you."

"No," replied the ex-Borg in a firm tone. She cupped Janeway's face in her hands, gently lifting it so that their eyes met, Janeway's red and full of tears. "You did not hurt me," she repeated, willing her lover to listen.

"You should go," said Janeway dully, pulling away again. "I don't deserve your love. Go, please, just leave."

Sitting motionless, the older woman refused to speak further despite Seven's attempts, and finally it was the Captain who left, walking out of her own quarters without a word.

**Part 3**

In charge of the night shift, Harry Kim was bored and on edge. The bridge crew went about their business in silence, nobody seeming to want conversation. Occasionally, people glanced around at their colleagues, eyes full of suspicion and watchfulness. It was not a pleasant atmosphere, and Kim wished he hadn't volunteered to take the conn. He did need experience, but there were times when it would be more prudent to step back. The young Ensign was just contemplating this idea when, without warning or any audible alerts, the bridge was plunged into darkness.

The next few seconds passed in a terrifying blur as panicked shouts came from all directions. Kim sprung from his chair and stumbled in the darkness, losing his footing and falling heavily to the deck. Nobody was able to take charge, the voices an incoherent jumble, until the lights were suddenly restored. All of the personnel on the bridge were still at their stations except for Harry himself, and at first glance everything appeared normal. Then Kim's eyes fell upon Megan Delaney.

She was slumped over the helm, the back of her uniform in bloody tatters. Six or seven stab wounds gaped open, and Kim could see the white of bone. Dark red splatters covered the floor and the seat, with droplets from backslashes half way across the room. Nobody spoke for several seconds, the scene was so horrific that it took the breath away. Then Kim responded, tapping his comm badge with a shaking hand.

"Kim to the Doctor, medical emergency on the bridge. I'm beaming her straight to sick bay."

"Acknowledged."

"Kim to Tuvok and Janeway, there's been another attack, on the bridge. Megan Delaney has been stabbed. I've transported her to sick bay but it looked bad."

"Understood," came Tuvok's reply. "Please ensure that nobody disturbs the scene. I will be there shortly."

"As will I," the Captain's voice sounded, calm and strong. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Janeway out."

Five decks down, Janeway left the gym and entered the nearest Turbolift, wishing she was already wearing her uniform and hoping that Seven was not still in her quarters, for the last thing she wanted was conversation. Leaving the Turbolift, she walked down the short corridor and into her living room. The sight that confronted her would stay with her forever.

Seven-of-Nine stood in the centre of the room, the top half of her body and the length of her arms covered in blood. In her left hand she held a dagger that Janeway recognised, a Vulcan ceremonial knife from her own collection, and the young woman was staring down at it with vacant eyes. Janeway struggled to breathe, but her instincts took over and, moving quickly and surely, she snatched up a phaser from a nearby shelf.

"Don't move," the Captain commanded, aiming the weapon at her lover. "Security to the Captain's Quarters, immediately." Seven took a step forward, bemused shock plain in her expression. "Don't move, Seven, or I will fire." Janeway's voice wavered slightly but her arm was steady.

The ex-Borg watched the dark liquid drip from her fingers, and, too dazed to comprehend Janeway's warning, she stumbled towards the older woman. The reaction was immediate, Janeway's finger squeezing the trigger and stunning Seven from close quarters. The young Borg fell to the deck and was still.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Part 1**

Seven lay in a crumpled heap, the blood on her arms and uniform wiping off onto Janeway's carpet as the Borg fell to the floor. The Captain didn't move, staring at the woman she had just shot. She knew the phaser was only set to stun, not kill, and that Seven would suffer no effects from the blast, but her shock came from the realisation that hit her like a pile driver, that Seven-of-Nine was the murderer who had been stalking Voyager. For a minute she couldn't believe what her eyes were telling her, for she had been with her friend when the first attack occurred. Or had she? Thinking back, during the conversation Seven had left the room for a couple of minutes, going into the bathroom. When the second murder took place Janeway had been in bed with the younger woman, but she had been asleep. The Borg must have left quietly and returned without waking the Captain.

Then there was noise, feet pounding, barked orders, and Janeway felt the phaser being removed from her unresisting grasp, bodies all around her. Unable to remain standing as her knees gave way, she sagged to the floor, the black boots around her bringing her mind back to her nightmarish ordeal, and then to the way she had all but forced herself on her lover. A grey fog clouded her vision and gratefully Janeway sank into unconsciousness.

**Part 2**

Chakotay stood over the biobed, watching anxiously as the Doctor injected Captain Janeway with a stimulant. It worked quickly, and soon she was sitting groggily, supported by the hologram. "Take it easy, Captain," he urged, a helping hand on his patient's arm. "You've had a bad shock. How are you feeling?"

Janeway couldn't even begin to answer that question. She felt as though she would never feel right again. Instead, the Captain asked the Doctor a question in return. "Megan Delaney?"

Voyager's Chief Medical Officer shook his head silently, and Janeway closed her eyes tightly. "Seven?" she whispered, seeing in her mind the image of her friend, covered in her victim's blood.

The Commander stepped closer, also resting an arm on Janeway's. "In the brig. She claims to have no memory of attacking Harper, Pitt and Delaney. The Doctor has run some tests on her but found nothing so far that would explain what she has done."

"She should be in sick bay," interjected the Doctor, glaring fiercely at Chakotay who didn't reply straight away, the issue evidently having already been thoroughly debated. When the Captain raised an eyebrow, asking the question, the large man explained shortly.

"Seven still poses a risk to the crew and possibly herself. Sedatives don't work on her physiology for very long, and the brig is the only place that can secure a former Borg drone. She is under constant guard."

"I'm going to speak with her," Janeway said, expecting and receiving protests from her subordinates and waving them off. "I need to do this, Chakotay."

"Captain, there are a couple more tests I want to do. Please, let me do my job first, and maybe we'll find a medical reason for this. None of us believe that Seven-of-Nine has suddenly decided to go on a killing spree for no reason."

Relenting, hearing the sense in the hologram's words, Janeway lay back on the bed and turned her face away. She felt empty, confused and very, very frightened, more than she had ever been in her life including when Cardassian soldiers were carrying out their depraved acts on her battered body.

**Part 3**

"Aha!" exclaimed the Doctor, a hint of jubilation is his tone that hinted at a eureka moment. "I think I've got it," he continued, beckoning to Chakotay who had not left sick bay but had spent two hours in the Doctor's office, working on routine tasks. On the screen at the main computer console was a picture that to the Commander made no sense at all, but judging by the hologram's excitement it was something significant.

"This," he said, jabbing at a blob in the picture with his finger, "is Seven's cortical node. This," the finger pointed again at another blob, "is her ocular node. Both are giving off a nanoelectric field."

"Should they be doing that," asked Chakotay, not understanding. Patiently, the Doctor continued.

"Yes, they should. However, the two fields should be exactly matched."

"And they're not?" The conversation was like pulling teeth, and Chakotay felt an urge to grab hold of the hologram and shake him.

"No. It should be a simple job for an engineer. Shall I alert Lieutenant Torres?"

"Yes. Let's get things put right, Doctor. Oh, and you'll have to go down to the brig first in order to sedate Seven – she might put up a fight otherwise." He turned to where Janeway lay still and approached her. "Captain, we've found a malfunction in Seven's Borg nodes which the Doctor thinks was the cause of her altered behaviour. He and Torres are going down to the brig now and I thought you might want to join them."

There was no reply, and the Captain's small form didn't even stir. "Captain?" The Commander touched his friend's shoulder gently, then shook her with more vigour when the woman still didn't respond. A hypospray fell to the floor, and Chakotay's chest thumped as he realised what this brave, lonely woman had done.

"Doctor!" he shouted, already pumping Janeway's chest with his huge hands. "She's not breathing, I think she injected herself with something!" The Commander was frantic, and was getting in the Doctor's way. The hologram pushed him aside, using the biobed's scanning equipment. There were lifesigns, fading rapidly, and he snatched up another hypospray, calmly injecting another stimulant straight into the Captain's bloodstream. A cortical shock was administered, the competent physician working quickly as he analysed the contents of the hypospray Janeway had used to end her life. It was a basic poison that luckily was simple to counteract, and physically, Janeway would be fine.

**Part 4**

Sitting up groggily, at first Janeway could not remember why she was there, in sick bay. Chakotay was looking down on her, unsmiling. "Welcome back," he greeted, once more helping her up. "I thought I'd lost you. Don't ever do that to me again, Kathryn," he said hoarsely, emotion straining his voice. Janeway didn't answer, but she grasped the Commander's arm and slowly stood. Chakotay's comm badge beeped, and he listened to the Doctor's report.

"Commander, Lieutenant Torres has carried out the repairs to Seven's nodes, and she's awake and talking. There is a…complication, however."

"What kind of complication?"

"Seven is extremely upset; it seems that she has memories of the attacks now that were being suppressed by her cortical implant. I'm convinced that she is no longer a danger, but she is refusing to leave the brig."

"I'm on my way," replied the First Officer, turning then to Janeway. "I can handle this if you're not ready," he said softly, but Janeway shook her head.

"No, Chakotay. It's got to be me."

**Part 5**

When Janeway entered the brig with Chakotay, there were two security officers, B'Elanna Torres, the Doctor and Harry Kim standing around. Seven was sitting on the low bench inside the brig, staring at the floor. She was wearing a surgical gown and in other circumstances Janeway would have laughed, for it looked ridiculous.

"Clear the room," ordered Janeway, and the command was obeyed within seconds, the door sliding shut behind Chakotay who was the last to leave, meeting Janeway's eyes before he exited. "Computer, seal the doors."

Janeway stepped over the raised edge of the cell, the force field deactivated, and stood in front of the young, pale woman. The older woman knelt on the floor, hesitantly reaching out to take Seven's hands in her own, expecting them to be pulled away. Instead, there was no reaction from the Borg, and the Captain squeezed tightly.

"Seven, now it's you who needs to talk to me. Remember what you said in my quarters? That if we are to be lovers we have to talk about things? You were right." When still the younger woman stayed silent, Janeway dropped her head, resting it on Seven's lap, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time that day. A minute passed, then another, then one of Seven's hands moved, stroking the Captain's thick, auburn hair gently.

"I should remain here, Captain. I should be punished for my actions. I – I cannot forgive myself."

"Seven," murmured Janeway, enjoying the intimacy of the caress and not wanting it to stop, "the murderer, the violent attacker – that wasn't you, just as the Borg drone who assimilated thousands wasn't you. It was the damned Borg again, turning you into something you're not!" The hand moved to Janeway's neck, stroking the soft skin at the nape.

"You should still punish me."

"Why? No jury in the universe would say that you were responsible for these crimes. I think you're afraid, Seven. Afraid to face the crew, afraid to allow them to forgive you, to feel compassion for you."

Seven's slender fingers slipped under Janeway's jacket, caressing the small mounds of her chest, causing her nipples to harden. The Captain rose from her crouch, settling down onto Seven's knees, facing her lover. They shared a tender kiss, Janeway lost in the moment and neither remembering nor caring that they were in Voyager's brig. She moved against the ex-Borg's thigh, feeling the tingling sensation rise from her groin, her breathing quickening with arousal. The younger woman unfastened Janeway's uniform trousers, and slid them down, lifting the smaller woman easily and removing them entirely, along with her underwear.

Janeway was pulled up onto her knees, one either side of Seven, and gasped when her lover's lips kissed her intimate folds. The questing mouth found the small, sensitive bump and Seven used her tongue, gently stroking one side then the other. She could taste Janeway's scent on her tongue, the older woman's juices seeping out as her arousal heightened, and the young woman found the flavour not unpleasant. The Captain's hands rested on Seven's shoulders, but she didn't exert any pressure, enjoying the delicious feelings that her partner was giving.

Close to orgasm, the Captain wanted more. She loved and trusted this ex-Borg more than anyone, knew that she would not hurt her. Bending her head, she whispered to Seven, her voice breaking. "Use a finger…inside. Please."

The young woman hesitated, stopping her lovemaking in order to glance up and meet the Captain's eyes. "Are you sure, Kathryn?" she asked softly, and Janeway nodded, her eyes moist. Carefully, Seven entered her partner, sliding a questing finger into the slick passage. She could feel the scars inside, the walls that would have once been silken and smooth, now marked by the violence Janeway had suffered. Gently, she bent her finger, moving it slowly until she found the sensitive spot that caused the older woman to cry out, in pleasure rather than pain. Settling back into the rhythm with her tongue, stroking and circling the bundle of nerves, Seven continued as Janeway's body shook against her, a whimper escaping as Janeway reached a peak, the climax crashing through her entire body with a force she hadn't experienced before.

For minutes the older woman trembled, waves of pleasure continuing to wash over her, until she collapsed against Seven, fighting for breath. The ex-Borg held her, pulling the Captain close into a loving embrace. When Janeway could breathe again, she spoke softly, her words muffled against her lover's chest.

"I love you, Seven."


End file.
